Dare Devil
by Emerald Riddle
Summary: Of all the people he expected the shadow to be, the shadow he came to love, he never expected it to be her. Harry PotterxPansy Parkinson


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Dare Devil**

_**By Emerald Riddle on 5/05**_

_Dedicated to all the Harry/Pansy lovers, wave your flags with pride!_

_Summary: Of all the people he expected the shadow to be, the shadow he came to love, he never expected it to be her. Harry Potter/Pansy Parkinson_

**----------**

It was my secret. I don't know when it started, or when I began to guard it so protectively, but I needed it now. It was like an addiction. The exhilaration of flying faster, harder, and longer than any of the school quidditch teams ever did... It was a secret love. A secret ambition to be the best on a broom. It was something to do if I couldn't sleep, if I felt angry or depressed. As the end of seventh year approached and everything my parents expected of me kind of just... fell on top of me all at once.

So I flew, and I flew damn well. I twirled and spun and flipped and dived. I tried out all of the moves I had ever heard of, and then I made some up of my own. Then, one day, for some reason I let go of my broom and _stood_ on it. That's when some of the more dangerous stunts started.

**----------**

Harry walked across the grounds. His invisibility cloak covered him and his old fire bolt. There were better models out now, but he didn't want to let go of it. He loved this broom and he wasn't going to let go of it to look cool. He flew well enough. As he rounded a corner, in full view of the pitch, he saw that someone was already flying on it.

It was dark, so all that was visible was a shadow, but it was enough in his eyes. That shadow loop-de-looped on its broom. That shadow dived as low as he was able to. That shadow did something that made his breath catch. That shadow stood on its broom. Harry hurried forward, wanting to see who the amazing talent belonged to, but stopped short. Suppose it was, for instance, someone who hated him? Like Draco Malfoy? Suppose it was a trap? It was probably best not to get too close.

So he knelt in the brush and watched.

The shadow, now sitting again, lay low on the broom. They went faster and faster and dived, then the shadow_ jumped_ off of the broom. The broom fell lower and lower until the shadow's weight fell against it again and resumed climbing higher and riding like they were following a roller coaster track. Harry flew like that when he was upset... but he never risked his life so foolishly.

He wondered what tortured that rider.

Harry left, but he came back every night after that.

Some nights the pitch was clear and he was able to burn out his frustration, copying some of the shadow's moves. Harry thought of standing on his broom, but he dismissed the thought. He needed to stay alive. He had a destiny to fulfill. However, when it the pitch was taken and the shadow rode, he watched in a mix of horror, fascination, and... reverence.

Harry began to love the shadow and its dance-like movements.

But he never revealed himself.

**----------**

I started to realize I was being watched after a while. It didn't bother me, because they never revealed who they were and I was positive they couldn't see my face in the darkness. I just wondered why they watched.

After a week of not riding, I knew why. They wanted to ride as well, and I was hogging the pitch. I knew this because as I trekked down to go fly I saw someone was already there, flying with just as much feverish intensity as I did. I wondered if it was Draco. Then I took the thought back. No, Draco could never fly _that_ well. I found the style fast, faster than my own, and smooth. No death defying stunts, so they couldn't be copying me. In fact, I found the riding familiar, but I couldn't quite place my finger on it.

All I saw was a shadow.

I wondered if that was all they saw when they watched me.

A part of me wished they didn't.

I grew to love the simple, yet elegant style of my phantom rider. The way they turned with such precision and dived with such force. I wanted to know who this person was, because, I think I started to have some sort of affection for them. They probably won't think the same of me with my pug face and my smug attitude- but I still wanted to know who they were.

The next night I saw no one on the pitch and the need to ride was equivalent to the need to see the phantom rider. The curves of the shadow haunted my mind and I couldn't think straight. As I went to do my specialty, the stand, dive, jump, fall (I'm not one for names, as you can see) I wavered as I stood. I slipped as I dived, and I jumped crookedly. I knew that when I fell, it would probably be my last. The broom would not catch me. And I never got to see my phantom rider...

**----------**

Harry was walking near the pitch and he saw the shadow. He, or she, seemed to be in a state. They weren't concentrating and that might turn out to be dangerous. Harry stood, unsure of what to do. Then he saw the shadow starting to do his favorite move. They messed up from the start. Trick or no trick, he couldn't let them get hurt. Shrugging of his invisibility cloak and swinging his leg over his firebolt, Harry set off. He urged his broom faster and faster as he saw them start the dive.

He was almost there as they started their crooked jump.

By now he could see his shadow was a girl, and as she fell he did the fastest dive he ever dared to in his life. She didn't scream, which was good, but she was surprised when she was grabbed around the waist and pulled onto a broom. Then Harry halted a mere few feet from the ground and lowered them down gently.

He collapsed on the grassy pitch, still holding his shadow.

**----------**

I fell, feeling the air meet my face and tangle my hair. It was scary, not having anything under me to control my fall or my speed. When I was just getting used to the idea of splattering all over the ground, strong, if spindly, arms wrapped themselves around my waist. They pulled me onto their broom and brought me back down to the ground.

Then they dragged me down onto the floor in exhaustion. I didn't mind. I was tired, too. But I knew who was holding me. It was my phantom rider. He came and saved my life. I could see him after all. So I turned over... and looked into the green eyes of Harry Potter.

_Harry Potter._

Most girls, even some in Slytherin, dreamed of him holding them, saving them, watching them. I was never one of those girls. But I couldn't doubt that I was now. He watched me, he cared enough to save me. Though, the unflattering shock on his face bothered me somewhat.

**----------**

Of all the people he expected the shadow to be, the shadow he came to love, he never expected it to be her. He never expected it to be Pansy Parkinson.

_Pansy Parkinson._

Harry wondered if all of Slytherin was going to ambush him at any moment, or if Voldemort sat watching in the stands, chuckling gleefully at his easy victory. Then he wondered if Parkinson was going to slap him for holding her for so long. But no. They just lay there and stared.

Then Harry realized it wasn't his place to be there with the "Slytherin Princess".

**----------**

Potter and I stared at each other for quite a long time, and I was beginning to wonder if he would kiss me. That would be a perfect ending to this little fairy tale, after all.

But Potter never followed the rules. He got up and left me laying in the dewy grass to watch the sunset. All alone. I was outraged! How dare he! I got up and walked briskly to breakfast, forgetting all about my airborne broom.

**----------**

Harry sat on a rock out by the lake. It was three days ago that he saved Pansy and walked away- and now he couldn't get his mind off of her. He tried smiling or talking to her a few times in the halls (when she was alone) but she just glared at him and walked away. Why would he expect anything different? She was a Slytherin, after all. All Slytherins were the same.

As he got up for breakfast (he stayed there all night waiting for her), something caught his eye. He turned to get a better look and stared. A broom handle was sticking out of a tree. A tree in the Forbidden Forest. Taking his firebolt in hand, he flew over to it and pulled it out.

_P. Parkinson _the elegant golden writing proclaimed.

_She doesn't have a broom, _Harry thought. The words horrified him. To not have a broom in a time of distress... he would never even wish it on Malfoy. So, covering himself with his invisibility cloak, he strode over to the Great Hall, where Parkinson was early every morning.

This was no exception. She sat poking at a bowl of porridge. She didn't look happy at all. Very depressed and annoyed in fact. Harry stood behind her and placed her beloved broom on the table.

"Hey, I think you lost this."

**----------**

"Hey, I think you lost this."

The words rattled me out of my reverie. I looked down and saw the very thing I was thinking about- my broom! My broom that was made especially for me with my name inscribed with melted galleons. I gasped. Then I turned to hug the person who so thoughtfully returned it. Who would give back such an expensive broom?

I turned.

Harry Potter.

Of course.

Before I could utter a word, a cloak was thrown over me and I disappeared.

**----------**

Harry wasn't sure of what he was doing, but he was doing it. Gryffindor stupidity, some called it. He held Pansy about the waist, looking into her clear blue eyes and wondering why he ever thought her ugly. Then he kissed her full on the mouth under an invisibility cloak in the Great Hall.

**----------**

I never expected it, which was the best part. A boy whisking me off and kissing me with abandon, it was every girls' dream. It was my reality.

Finally, the ending I was looking for. Like in all the story books where the Princess got her Knight in shining armor... I got my Harry Potter. I thought I had it all just then, my broom, my boy, and a new hope for the future. And I know he did, too.

Harry looked up at me with his bright green eyes. "Shall we take this outside, dare devil?" He inclined his head to my broom.

I was more than happy to oblige.

**The End**


End file.
